


my heart is collapsing

by lilsoftgay



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, a lot of hurt and crying and heartbreak in general, background falliam, fluffy sappy ending, idek anymore, im just in my feels, kirby wipes away a lot of fallon's tears, mentions of past fallon/jeff... do those two even have a shipname?, mentions of past mallon, mostly they're pining without realizing they're pining, soft heartbroken fallon who lets kirby & kirby only see her like this, they don't even realize they're lesbians, this started v angsty but turned into soft fluff at the end by why tf not, two useless idiot lesbians who snuggle in bed, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25213555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsoftgay/pseuds/lilsoftgay
Summary: “Before you grow up, you need to fall in love three times. Once with your best friend. Once with someone exactly like you. Once with someone you think is perfect.”Kirby doesn't believe she'll ever fall in love. But she watches Fallon go through each of the heartbreaks.---useless idiot lesbians AU / not timeline compliant to the series/episodes.
Relationships: Kirby Anders & Fallon Carrington, Kirby Anders/Fallon Carrington
Comments: 11
Kudos: 37





	my heart is collapsing

**Author's Note:**

> [tw: dieting talk & characters struggling to eat when heartbroken throughout the entire fic. nothing graphic and no strong ED behaviors, but please don’t read this fic if this may trigger you <3]
> 
> \---
> 
> so. i sat down to write after a long time away from writing, and i had an entirely different thing in mind but this came out instead. 
> 
> it’s my first time writing a first-person pov fic (usually i don’t like them) and my first time writing firby and my first time in a long time sharing something without a beta reader looking over it first. please review/feedback!
> 
> \---
> 
> songs i listened to while writing this: 
> 
> \- put a little love on me, niall horan [title is a lyric from this]  
> \- scar tissue, camila cabello  
> \- you broke me first, tate mcrae  
> \- boys like you, anna clendening  
> \- i hate u, i love you, gnash ft olivia o'brien

I shake my head as I hear Fallon’s bathroom door close and every stream of water possible being turned on. If the breakfast tray left untouched outside her room earlier this morning wasn’t a big enough tip-off the 3am no-one-can-hear-me-cry-if-all-the-water-is-running shower surely was. 

Fallon’s third big heartbreak. 

The girl had done plenty of crying and sad pathetic post-breakup moping about but only twice before had she really been heartbroken. By boys, at least. 

There was Culhane. Who she’d grown up around, played chess with, and learnt to drive with. Culhane, who flirted and played jump rope with the line between friend, servant, and lover. Culhane, who despite being years older, had taught her what friendship looked like and what love could be and then abandoned her when she fell in deep. 

Then there was Jeff. Jeff Fuck Knows Why Fallon Dated Him Colby. A match made in the 8th circle of hell, between the two most stubborn power-hungry underloved people I know, who bring out the worst in each other. 

And now there is Liam. Walk-on-water do-no-wrong (except lying about who he was, kind of) Liam, who Fallon fell head over high heels for. Liam who abandoned her because she’d changed from the day they first met as though a person isn’t allowed to change as they grow through life. 

Bad things come in threes, I suppose? My dad once, when I was 11 and crying over the boy I thought I’d marry taking someone else to the prom long before I realized boys aren’t good for anything heart-related, told me you have to fall in love three times before you can grow up. 

Even with all the water running, I can hear her sobs clearly now. 

I cross the hall between our rooms quickly, now that her highness has allowed me to stay in the same wing as her, and knock on her bathroom door lightly. 

She doesn’t answer. I didn’t expect her to. 

There’s a crash of a bottle and then she’s scarily quiet and suddenly I’ve opened her bathroom door and Fallon’s half dressed sitting on the floor of the shower surrounded by broken glass and she’s having a panic attack. 

It doesn’t take long to pull her out of the shower, to safety, and guide her to the bath. It’s already filled, and starting to overflow, from Fallon trying to cover her cries, so it’s easy to convince her to slip into it and let her wash away the tears and the heartbreak. 

(It can’t be washed away that easily.)

She doesn’t speak until I’ve wrapped her in a soft towel and wrapped a second one around her dripping wet hair. 

It’s barely a whisper but I know what she’s asking. I don’t even have to answer, she knows I’m going to say yes. 

And so we sit on her bed, snuggled into her blanket nest, and I gently comb the tangles out her hair. 

We don’t speak, really. Nothing I could say would help. Fallon just hums quietly as I twist her hair into two french braids. When it’s neatly tied, I hug her tightly and rest my chin on her shoulder. 

She stops humming. 

“Kirbs, I …” 

“It’s okay. I know it sucks right now, you’re going to be okay. Until then, I’ve got you.”

“Don’t… Please don’t t-” 

“I know, I know, don’t tell anyone. You know I won’t, Fallon.”

She doesn’t move to wipe the tears falling from her cheeks, so I don’t mention them. I pull us down and let her pull my arms around her like a safety blanket as she falls asleep.    
  
(She’s a lot shorter than I remember. The perfect little spoon.)

Hours later, when the sun is halfway up into the sky again and the staff are rushing about to get the house ready for the day, I sink back into my own bed, exhausted. 

My heart aches for Fallon. A girl who doesn’t fall in love easily, and who certainly doesn’t fall out of love easily at all. The girl who brought me ice cream and a bandaid after my first breakup in the 6th grade. 

I’ve grown since then, and fallen in love over and over. I think I’m one of those people that just falls in and out of love easily. With people, with life, with any dog that crosses the street. I laugh it off like it’s any other of the bad habits I’ve accumulated over the years like biting my nails or finishing a bottle of red single-handedly on nights that make my bones feel cold. 

I don’t know if I experience love differently to most people. I don’t seem to get heartbroken, melodramatic moment of pre-teen years aside. I don’t do the crying, the all-in relationships, I just float through them and run through the motions. If it wasn’t for seeing Fallon heartbroken, I’d think everyone else was the same way. 

I’ve never understood my dad’s idea that you need to fall in love three times before you can grow up. It’s a quaint perspective but nothing more. 

  
  
  


\--- 

I roll my eyes as Fallon dumps her breakfast on my plate for the fourth time that week. She’s been on a diet on and off for the last 8 years. I thought when Alexis left seven years ago that Fallon would stop dieting - she’s perfect already - but Fallon kept it up all through middle school and now that she’s about to start her freshman year of high school, she’s decided she needs to lose 5 pounds. 

I take a giant bite of my waffle, maple syrup dripping down my chin. “Mmm, delicious.”

Fallon’s smile falters and she sighs at her plate, empty except for a banana. 

I sigh, knowing I’m not going to get anywhere if I say something right now. She’s wound up with nerves and anxiousness about the first day of school. “We’re still doing our usual thing tonight, right?”

Fallon perks up immediately. “Yeah, I already put Breakfast At Tiffany’s in the DVD player and asked Anders to make sure Mrs Gunnerson makes all our favorite snacks. And I’ve got a bottle of champagne hiding in Steven’s minibar thing in his room.”

“Will you eat any of those snacks or will it just be me?” 

I knew I shouldn’t have asked that. Fallon’s eyes glaze over with tears and I can see her whispering to herself, words Alexis had said to her in the past that I know she repeats over and over when she wants to hurt herself. Why did I do that? Why did I make it worse?

“I’m sorry Fallon. I should have... I just want to… You’ve been dieting for… Our first day of school tradition means a lot to me, and I just...”

“It’s okay.” Fallon smiles a little too brightly. “I’ll eat them too, I promise. And don’t worry about me, I’m good.” 

She presses a kiss to my temple as she goes outside to let the young new driver take her to school. I’m left chewing my waffle unsure what to think. It’s not as bad a diet as some of her old ones, at least. Fallon’s beautiful, and sure I’m happy with my tall skinny body but I love how all her dresses show off her curves, too. 

I touch my temple with hands lightly, it’s sticky with leftover lipstick and I know I’ll have to do my make up all over again and be late for school but I can’t help but smile at her silliness. 

Of course I worry about her, but no more than normal. She can take care of herself, she’s the strongest, most independent person I know, after all. 

(Still, when she eats her share of the snacks wrapped up in blankets with me on the couch that night, I’m definitely calmer.)

\---

We’re 13 and 14 and we have so many secrets and we share most of them. I know about the letters Fallon’s written to Alexis but never sent, and she knows about the postcards I draw for my mom but store in a shoebox under my bed. She knows who my first kiss was, and I know she’s scared of boys who want sex with her, and we both know what we really want to be when we’re older, not just the answer we give when grownups ask. But I definitely wasn’t supposed to find  _ this _ secret out. 

I freeze. I’m trying to do math in my head, she’s 14 and he’s - well I don’t know how old he is exactly but he’s definitely older than 14, and Fallon’s leaning on his desk and his hand’s up her shirt and I can’t really breathe and Fallon’s turning red and I can see tears in her eyes and she almost looks angry - maybe others would think she looks angry but I know her I know her so well that I can always tell what she’s feeling and right now she just looks scared and oh God I really can’t breathe. 

\---

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I- where am- Fall?”

“You cannot tell anyone. Promise me that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I promise.”

“Say it.” Fallon looks close to tears again, and my heart hurts at the sight of that. 

“I promise I won’t tell anyone. You know I’ll always keep your secrets, you’re my best friend. Fallon, I- why am I in your bed?”

“It’s fine. I know what you’re thinking and it’s fine. He’s 17.”

I shake my head, trying to clear it. I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about what I saw earlier. “Why am I in your bed?”

“You fainted.”

“Oh.”

I realize then, that I’ve got one of Fallon’s dressing gowns wrapped around me. It’s soft and silky and I’ve always liked her pajamas better than mine. And blankets. I’ve got so many blankets on top of me, and a wet towel on my forehead (or wet cloth? definitely something soaking wet, it’s sticking my hair down). 

“You fainted, and I didn’t know what to do. So I carried you to my room and-

“You  _ carried _ me?  _ You _ carried me?”

“Well I didn’t want Blake to find out about me and Culhane.”

“Why? Blake knows who Culhane is, you’ve been friends for years.”

“Well. Yes. But he can’t find out we’re dating. Because when he got injured last year I asked Blake to give him a job and now he lives in the loft and works as our driver.”

“A driver? He’s… barely got his license.”

Fallon shrugs, and choses to gush about him instead. Something about his arms. I tune her out and move the soaking wet towel from my forehead to the floor. 

She moves her hands when she speaks, and her eyes light up. They’ve always been bright blue with a dark blue rim at the edge, but when she’s on a fiery rant or an impassioned speech they almost seem to glitter, like ice. 

My back aches as I shift and I wonder how Fallon carried me from the loft all the way to her room. She’s strong, but she’s tiny, almost a whole foot shorter than I am thanks to my back to back growth spurts. 

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” 

“I’m sorry, I just… You carried me all the way to your room.” I burst out laughing, and it doesn’t take long for her to join me. 

“You’re really happy with him aren’t you?”

“I really am.” She sighs dreamily as she pats my head, adjusting her movements to be more gentle when I wince. “He’s my best friend, Kirby.”

I either looked sad, or she remembered my promise from earlier, because she immediately snuggles down into her pile of blankets to hug me. “But you’re my best friend too.”

I think I reply, but I’m not really sure. I turn in the blankets, away from Fallon to face the wall. I don’t want her to see me crying. 

“Does it still hurt? You hit the ground pretty hard when you fainted.”

I make a noise, and Fallon takes it as a yes. 

\---

“You know it’s  _ not _ your fault, right? You did nothing wrong, he knew what he was getting into.” I wince a little as I hear the words leave my mouth, harsher than I intended. 

Fallon shakes her head vehemently, her curls flying in every direction and I wonder when she even had time to fix her hair today, how she always gets it to look so much shinier than mine even though we use the same shampoo. 

“He didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“He hurt you.” 

“I’m not hurt.” Fallon’s indignant but she reaches out to grab my hand softly, giving it a small squeeze. “I’m just confused, Kirbs.”

I squeeze her hand back. 

“He’s my best friend, he knows everything about me, he’s the person I’d run to for anything, but he works for Blake too. It’s not easy to balance that. I don’t want it to get messy.”

I bite back the things I really want to say, and try my best to not squeeze her hand even harder. I grip my cardigan with my empty hand, tight enough that it makes my palm tingle. 

“I know.”   
  
(I don’t know. But it seemed like the right thing to say.)

\---

I don’t eat for three days, my stomach’s always in knots. 

Fallon tells me I’m beautiful to need to diet. I stuff my face with a waffle to please her, and feel sick the rest of the day. 

The lipstick imprint she leaves somewhere on my cheek as a thank you for eating is worth it. 

\---

I don’t bother knocking on her bedroom door, or the door to her ensuite bathroom. I can hear her cries from my own bedroom despite what sounds like the Niagra falls. 

Well it’s not quite the Niagra falls but she’s turned on every possible faucet. 

I don’t have time to pay attention to the faucets for long before I catch sight of her. 

Cross legged on the floor of her shower, still semi-dressed, and shaking. She’s crying in a way I’ve never seen her cry before, and the sobs hurt my ears. 

(And my heart.)

I try to hug her, but the water’s freezing and I recoil. I don’t know how she’s lasted this long under it. 

  
  


\---

“Blake… he wants me to be COO when I’m ready.”

I waited, figuring she’d tell me the full story in her own time. 

“He wants me to start in operations right after my MBA.” 

“That’s impressive.” I smooth her hair down, and she snuggles in closer. Our legs get tangled. It’s comfortable. 

“I can’t date my driver.”

“Oh.”   
  
“Imagine how that would look if anyone at Carrington Atlantic ever found out. Like I can’t be trusted to not mix business with… with fun.”

I’m not sure I fully understand, I’m 13 and I can’t imagine having my future mapped out down to who I can and can’t date, but I know the dynamics are messy, and I know Fallon’s heartbroken, and that’s all that matters to me. 

(I’m still curious.)

“So you… you broke up with him?”

“Of course not. That would have been too easy.”

I raise my eyebrow, anyone that’s so easy to break up with surely wouldn’t have caused her to cry in a freezing cold shower just hours earlier. 

“I made him give me all the intel he had on Carrington Atlantic’s competition, one of his best friends works at that oil company Blake’s been trying to take over for years. And then I used it. I handed it to Blake so he could buy them out.”

“That’s… smart.” I take a guess at the compliment that would most comfort Fallon. Playing on her intelligence, which she has in spades, usually works. 

“Well. It was. Until he found out and told me I’m a cold hearted bitch who manipulates everyone around her.”

I don’t have to say much, I just open my arms and let her cry until the tears have dried. 

“You’re not any of the things he said. You’re powerful and stubborn and intelligent, and you’re also caring and funny and you’re really really pretty.” I press a kiss somewhere into her mess of hair. I think she’s asleep as I say it, but she stirs enough to thank me, so I guess she hears all of it. 

\---

“Please don’t tell anyone about Culhane. Even now that it’s over.” 

“You know I won’t Fallon. I’m your best friend.”

I sigh sadly as her plate of bacon gets pushed onto mine. 

\---

“Alexis would be proud, at least.” Fallon’s hands skim over her hips, pulling the material of her now-loose dress tight. 

I just raise an eyebrow, silent. It’s been two weeks. 

Fallon drops her head. “I didn’t mean to. I just-”

“I know.” I cut her off quickly, having heard too many late night shower crying sessions to doubt her lack of hunger is from anything other than heartbreak. 

“Please don’t be worried.” 

“I’m…” I choose my words carefully, “I’m not worried that you’re excessively dieting. I’m… concerned and hurting for you that you’re hurting so much that you don’t feel up to eating.”

She knocks the wind out of me as she koala jumps onto me for a hug. I can feel hear tears on my shoulder, and when I squeeze her as tightly as possible she starts sobbing loudly. 

“I want ice cream.” She chokes out, between sobs. 

“Let’s get ice cream, then.”

She squeals as I start moving. 

“I can walk.”

I accidentally nudge her a bit when I shrug, and pat her back in apology. “You’re pretty tiny.”

Somewhere between the hallways outside her room and the kitchen on the other end of the house Fallon’s heart breaking sobs turn to quiet whimpers. 

It’s not until we’re on our third Disney movie and second pint of ice cream of the night that she stops crying fully. I sneak glances at her as we watch and eat. I don’t know how anyone could ever willingly hurt someone so beautiful, so strong, and so… Fallon. 

“I love you, Kirby. You’re my best friend.”

“You’re mine too.”

“Say you love me.”

The words catch in my throat. “Magic word.” I laugh, instead. 

“Please.”

“I love you.”

Fallon’s smile is wider than it’s been all week and my stomach flipflops. 

\---

We don’t talk about boys for a while after that. She’s doing better, but she’s not really healed yet. 

We just hold hands watching movies every Sunday. I can’t remember when it started, but I know it makes Fallon feel better. 

\---

A tattooed senior boy that my dad would find suspicious asks me out while I’m waiting for Fallon outside her piano class one day, and I say yes. 

I thought she’d be happy when I tell her, but she grills me instead on who he is and what he wants from me and what we’re going to do on our date. 

She still agrees to do my make-up for the date and help me pick out an outfit, though, so she can’t be too concerned. 

\---

“How and why do you always get boys asking you out?”

I shrug, still watching the movie in front of us and far too comfortable leaning on Fallon to turn and have an actual conversation about this. None of them have really been anything worth talking about anyway. The last one I went out with told me he thought I was more interesting before I spoke to him. They get all excited because I’m tall and I have red hair, or something, and then they take me on a date and expect me to order salad and say things like ‘tell me I’m beautiful’ and not have any opinions worth sharing. As if. 

“Maybe I should grow taller and dye my hair red too.”

I turn around to stare at her, wondering if I’d said that all outloud. But no, Fallon just knows me that well, by the smirk on her face.

“You should get a nose piercing too while you’re at it.”

She throws a pillow at my face. 

\---

We don’t talk about boys again after that. 

Fallon’s busy with school and her internship in her dad’s company, and I’m busy with my own things, or at least that’s what I say when we cross paths sometimes in the house. 

We haven’t had a movie night in six weeks. Fallon seemed to remember our Sunday evening tradition last week but I walked away before she could ask, muttering something about my art work. I didn’t want to seem like I was just waiting around the house for her to hang out with me. 

\---

“Hey Fallo-”

“I’m busy, Kirby. Honestly, can’t you see that I’m working here.” She snaps, tapping away at her phone. 

I leave my breakfast on the table and walk away before she can see me crying. 

She didn’t really hurt me… I’m just sensitive. 

And I wanted to hang out with her. It’s like she has no time for me anymore all of a sudden.

\---

“Do you think I can borrow your dress? The cobalt one that’s mid-calf length on you? After school today?” Fallon rushes in, grabbing an apple as she makes her way across the dining room. 

“...yeah. Sure.” I’m not sure how much of that answer is intelligible so I nod, still mid-waffle. 

“Thanks.”

She presses a kiss to my temple and runs off to school. 

I stare after her, knowing I’ll get the full story sooner or later but still wondering what on earth just happened.

\---

“Thanks Cinderella.” Fallon smirks, and reaches for the dress, but doesn’t take it from my hands. 

I wait, and try to figure out whether she meant to insult me or not just then. 

“Are you sure it will fit?” Fallon’s tone is light and airy and jokey but her eyes betray her. 

“I mean, it will be floor length on you, you’re kind of short Fallon. But yes, I’m sure.” 

She still bites her lip as she turns around to try it on. 

I close her bedroom door in case anyone else walks past. “So… what’s it for?” 

Her hair’s in an up-do so it’s got to be something fancy but work related, that’s the only time she does her hair into an elaborate updo instead of her usual curls. I don’t know why she’s planning on wearing my nicest blue dress to this when I know she has far nicer things in her own closet, but it’s Fallon so she probably has a reason. 

“Jeff’s launching his company tonight. We’re doing silver and blue decor and this is the perfect shade of cobalt for it. Thanks again, Kirbs.”

I nod a you’re welcome, though she can’t see me as she’s turned around still. I try not to pay attention as she strips off her blouse and skirt to step into the dress. 

(I smile when I realize she’s got her curves back, and all traces of Micheal induced heartbreak have left.)

“Jeff?” 

“You know Jeff, a senior, we run in the same circles. We started dating 6 weeks ago, remember?”

I don’t know how she expects me to remember something we haven’t talked about, but I agree all the same. “Yeah, yeah, sorry, just making sure I heard you.”

“Oh. It looks different from what I remember.”

She’s in front of the mirror, and the dress is stunning on her. I thought it looked good on me, but Fallon… she looks absolutely beautiful in it. 

“Probably because you’re used to it being shorter on me, Fall. It suits your eyes.”

She smiles tightly, eyes still on her own reflection, and no real meaning to her answer. “That’s nice, thanks.”

“Have a good time tonight, Fallon.”

She doesn’t reply as I head back to my room and turn on my sad playlist. 

\---

I’m disoriented when I wake up. It’s pitch black, I have music playing from the speaker on my desk, and I’m face down fully clothed on my still made bed. 

A glance at my computer screen says it’s almost 3am. 

I change into pajamas quickly, and turn off the speaker. I slip into bed, hoping to get a few more hours of sleep before school starts. 

I’m almost asleep when I hear it - Fallon. 

I skid to a stop just in front of her bathroom, I don’t even bother knocking this time. 

She’s a puddle of blue sitting with her knees hugged into her chest in the shower. I want to be upset about the dress, but I already know Fallon’s going to need a lot more than a dry cleaning bill to heal so I can’t say much. She’s still wearing her Louboutins, too. 

I hold both my hands out, and wait for her to grab them before I pull her up and towards the bathtub. 

I can’t undo the zip, she’s trembling too much, and my fingers are slippering. She whimpers as I disappear into her bedroom, but barely notices when I come back with a pair of scissors in hand. 

We both stare at the cut up dress on the floor for a moment, and then she’s in the warm water, and I’m undoing her hairdo. 

She’s still looking at the dress, heels and hairpins strewn on top of it messily, as I wrap her up in warm fluffy towels twenty minutes later. 

\---

“We were supposed to take over the world together, start an empire, set it all ablaze. Instead he used me.”

“Used you?!” I bolt upright in bed, pulling her up with me. 

“He used me to get Blake to invest in his stupid company.”

I hug her, loosely, leaving space for the anger radiating from her. It doesn’t take long for her to grasp at me tightly and the tears to start falling. 

“He really… spent all that time telling me how “pretty” and “smart” and “great” he found me, and then just turned around and used me for Blake.”

I want to tell her that she  _ is _ pretty and smart and great, no air quotes, but she won’t listen if I tell her now. Instead, I let her sob it out and tell me the whole story start to end in between rounds of crying. 

She fell for him because he was the male version of her, she says. Only less good, she says. (I agree.)

They really had planned to start an empire together. Only he pulled out the rug from under her. 

I want to listen and sympathize and help her heal. 

But I can’t focus. 

I don’t know if it’s that she’s so angry that it’s making me angry too, but all I can think of is how he pulled her away from me, how our friendship got put on hold for the last however many weeks, because of him. 

When she starts crying again, I cry with her. 

“You’re such a good friend Kirby.”

My tears flow faster, and I work harder to silence them. She doesn’t need to worry about my own aching heart right now. 

\---

It feels like I’m walking on eggshells anytime I’m around Fallon now. 

Her world’s been turned upside down, and I want to be there for her, I really do. But listening to her go on and on and on about Jeff this and Jeff that and how they’d planned to take over the entire world and how the-

“He used me to get his company off the ground because he knew I’d get Blake to invest.”

I can’t even finish my own thoughts, that’s how much she talks about him now. 

“All he does is manipulate people.”

I think back to Culhane, and how that relationship ended. And I know, I know, that I should just keep quiet and let her finish her rant right now, but I can’t help myself. 

“Isn’t that what you do, too?” 

It’s louder than I meant for it to be, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far for Fallon. The stinging slap across my cheek says as much. 

“Get out of this house.”

\---

I thought she’d calm down after sleeping it off, but when my dad wakes me up in tears and clutching a boarding pass the next day, I realize I underestimated her. 

Or maybe I overestimated her. 

I try to argue. I try to beg. I try to reason. 

I’m on a plane four hours later, flying to a city over 9,000 miles away that I haven’t been in since I could walk on my own two feet. 

This feels like too much, like the biggest overreaction in mine and Fallon’s lives. I want to scream that it’s unfair, that she’s a bitch, that I have a right to live with my father. 

But all I can see when I close my eyes is her face when I said she was just like Jeff. 

The hurt in her eyes. 

\---

When I land, I have three texts waiting for me. I reply to my dad’s quickly to say that yes I’ve landed safe and yes I’ll call him when I’m at the apartment he had set up for me. 

I ignore the other two for as long as possible.

\---

I don’t eat for days. 

\---

I go to the beach and I get lost in the surf, wanting the waves to carry me away. 

I drag myself back to my towel on the beach, and I finally give in and check her message. 

**FallPal <3 : ** You broke my heart. 

**FallPal <3 : ** You were supposed to be my best friend.

I don’t trust myself to not send a reply if I type one out, so I draw one into the sand with my finger instead. 

_ Ditto. _

\---

I don’t eat for days, still. 

\---

I think about Fallon less and less as the days go one. It’s unbearable at first and I spend most of my time underwater at the beach, trying to block out the noise of this world, the thoughts I can’t run away from, the way my heart still pounds. 

I sign up to all the matchmaking apps, lying over and over that I’m 18+ and saying yes to any guy that messages me. 

I don’t really pay attention to the things they say, only barely enough to respond to them so they keep talking, or the things we do, only just enough to make sure I’m comfortable with it all. 

They’re distractions, nothing more. I know that. 

I think they know that too. I think that’s why I never get a second date. 

(Or maybe it’s because all I can talk about is this girl who used to be my best friend. The first times it was with a vicious bitter anger, but over time it’s faded into nostalgia and heartache.)

\---

It’s 6 years and 10 months since I left the manor, and I’m crossing the 9,200 miles back to Atlanta again for the first time since I left. 

I was hesitant at first, but my dad had promised that it would be okay, and that Fallon would be going off to Harvard Business School come the fall. And I had a great job offer in Atlanta that I didn’t want to turn down just because of  _ her _ . 

\---

I’m sitting in the kitchen when I see her for the first time in years. 

“Uhm. Hi.” Fallon stares at me like she can’t believe her eyes. 

“Hi. My dad said he’d told you that I…” I trail off. I don’t know what to say. 

“Uhm. Yeah. He did.”

“Okay. Well. Hi.”   
  
“Hi.” 

She walks away, heels clacking on the floor, breakfast untouched. 

Not much has changed around here, then. 

I told myself I only needed to stay here until I found my own apartment to live in. Maybe a small studio in the city center, close enough to drive over and visit dad whenever I wanted, but far enough that I wouldn’t accidentally run into Fallon when I’m out shopping or something. 

\--- 

I’ve only been back in the house two days and Fallon introduces me to Liam. Perfect, the-guy-from-mean-girls-with-his-sexy-hair-pushed-back lookalike Liam, who Fallon is head over heels for. Who Fallon won’t stop talking about to anyone who’s willing to listen. 

I almost buy a one-way ticket back to Australia. 

It’s not even like Fallon wants me to be around. She’s made that very clear. I’m to stay in a completely different wing of the house from her and avoid her as much as possible. Which should be all the time. 

That’s easy enough to do. Anywhere Fallon goes, Liam follows like the perfect little lovesick puppy he is, and I want nothing at all to do with that. 

\---

It doesn’t take long for that perfect veneer to fade away. I don’t think I’m supposed to hear them, but I’m down in the wine cellar trying to find something sparkling and I hear every word of their argument. 

Not much of it makes sense to me, but I can tell Fallon’s biting back tears from how she’s answering Liam. 

I hide until it’s quiet and then run back to my room, Lambrusco in hand. 

\---

When we cross paths at the breakfast table the next day, much later than her usual breakfast time, Fallon’s (red & puffy) eyes narrow but she doesn’t say anything. She grabs a pile of food and sits next to me silently. 

She chews the banana slowly, and I eat my waffle silently. 

It’s subtle, but she moves the rest of her breakfast plate towards me. 

Just as silently, I take it from her and eat that too. 

(I’m so full.)

\---

We fall into an odd pattern. Fallon arguing with Liam, me pretending not to hear, Fallon silently spending time with me. 

We don’t talk about it. 

\---

She knocks at my door on a Sunday evening. I think she has to knock a couple times before I hear her, because I’m entrenched in some horror movie I’d found on Netflix.

She smiles brightly when I open the door, but her face falls as soon as her eyes peer behind me and spot the projector I’d set up. 

I reach out a hand to stop her from running away, and notice she’d been holding a DVD case. Some movie we’d watched endless times growing up. 

“Come in, we can watch together.”

“I… can’t watch horror movies.”

“I know. We can watch the DVD you’re holding.”

“But you-”   
  
“It’s on Netflix. I can watch it another time. The sounds of it mixed with the thunderstorm were giving me the chills anyway. I want to watch the Mary-Kate & Ashley right now.”

Fallon nods once, and quietly follows me. 

We start out on opposite ends of my bed. A few feet, several years, and an unmentioned elephant between us. 

20 minutes into the movie and she’s crying. It’s not a particularly sad scene, and it never set her off when we were younger, so my guess is the tears have nothing to do with what’s playing. I open my arms out tentatively. 

She may have kicked me out of this house halfway across the world, but she’s still my best friend. And she’s hurting. And Liam keeps screaming at her. 

  
  


\---

“I haven’t slept more than four hours in-... in a long time.” She cuts herself off and readjusts mid-sentence. 

I raise an eyebrow, “how long?”

“Uhm. 7 years I guess.”

My heart hurts a bit, that she’s been sleepless for that long. That no one has noticed. That no one has done anything about it. 

I pull the duvet up to our chins. “Go back to sleep. I’m still tired anyway.”

She laughs and nudges me, calling me sleepyhead, but it only takes a few moments for her to start snoring softly. 

I reach for my phone, hungry and awake and in need of coffee, and text my dad to ask for breakfast in bed. 

(Maybe he only says yes because he still feels guilty for having sent me away 7 years ago, but there’s no way I’m moving a sleeping Fallon or letting her carry on semi-exhausted.) 

\---

The more Fallon argues with Liam, the more time Fallon spends with me. 

I ask the moon, on a night I can’t sleep, whether it’s fair that I’m almost rooting for them to keep arguing. 

\---

We’re halfway through The Spy Who Dumped Me on our now-usual-again Sunday evening movie nights when Fallon turns to me and says, “You should move back into your own room.”

She helps me bring all my things over that evening, instead of waiting for the maids to do it in the morning. 

She sleeps in my bed that night, claiming to be exhausted from moving a few armfuls of clothes. 

\---

They have their biggest argument a few days later. It’s the first time my name comes up in an argument. 

“I can’t believe you told her and not me.”

“She’s my best friend.”

“Kirby? The girl you sent packing from here 6 years ago? Really?  _ I’m _ supposed to be your best friend, Fallon. You’re losing sight of who you are, for God’s sake.”

I turn on a horror movie and drown them out, this one feels too private to listen in to. 

\---

This is the night I wake up at 3am to Fallon’s third big heartbreak. 

\---

“It’s my fault. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

I bite back a sigh, I’m not awake enough for this conversation, it’s 7am and I haven’t had coffee yet, and I’m still tangled up in a mess of limbs in Fallon’s bed. But Fallon’s awake and crying, and if I was any smarter I would call Monica or Sammy Jo or Beau, but Fallon’s tear stained cheeks and the way her hand is clenching the duvet so tightly that her knuckles have turned white are reasons enough for me to stay. I’ll deal with my headache, and quickly growing coffee needs later. 

“He’s... he was...” Fallon falters, the lump in her throat growing bigger. 

I reach out to pat her shoulder, gently, almost anticipating her innate reaction of freezing up at unexpected contact. 

“He’s right. He knows who he is, what he wants, where he’s going. He’s got his whole future planned out. And I… I don’t know who I am anymore. He was perfect, and I went and screwed it up because I’m me and that’s all I can do.”

I shake my head, ignoring the self deprecation and the reasons behind the downfall of their relationship. I don’t know what happened enough to comment on that, nor do I care to. All I care about is Fallon right now. 

“You’re Fallon.” I have to hold back a laugh, because the answer’s so obvious to me. 

Even in the midst of her misery, tears and mascara streaming down her cheeks, Fallon manages to glare. 

(It wasn’t that harsh of a glare.)

“Don’t give me that attitude. What I mean is you’re not Fallon I Need To Take Over The World And Prove My Dad I’m Worth It Carrington. You’re not Fallon I Must Build An Empire And Be A Power Couple Carrington-Ridley. Or Fallon We’re Going To Light The World On Fire Together And Watch It Burn Carrington-Colby. Or Fallon Best Friend Employer Lover Carrington-Culhane. You don’t have to be any of those versions of you anymore. You can put the masks down.”

Fallon smiles sadly, because she knows I’m right. Of course I’m right. 

“But if I’m not any of those, then what’s left?”

I feel a small lump form in my throat and swallow it thickly as I stop stroking her arm, a gesture of comfort she had been letting me get away with throughout my monologue. “You, Fallon. You’re you. Just Fallon.”

“She’s...”

And I know what Fallon’s about to say, because she has the same look she had on her face when we were 3 and Fallon was crying about how she wasn’t good enough for her father because he’d picked Steven over her yet again, and when we were 5 & 6 and Fallon decided she was going on her first diet because of something Alexis had said in passing, and when Fallon was 8 and got her first A-. 

“No. I’m not going to stand here and listen to you spew out horrible things about a person I love.”

Fallon breathed in, and I jumped at how sharp it was. 

I hold her breath, regretting letting my heart take over from my brain for the fourth time in this short conversation. “I love you, Fallon. Like a sister. Even if you did send me all the way to Australia.” 

“I didn’t mean...” 

“I know. It’s okay. It was ten years ago.” 

“But y-”   
  
“We can talk about that another time. But really, it’s okay. You didn’t know any better. Neither did I, neither did anyone. And that’s not the point. You’re running away from this conversation.”

Fallon shrugs, and I know there’s not much she can really argue with there. We’ve been here before. We’ve had this conversation before, time & time again. 

But something feels different this time. 

\---

“What is it about me?” Fallon’s voice is still raspy, but softer and quieter this time around. 

It still wakes me up, and I glance at her bedside alarm clock wondering when we fell asleep earlier. I’m not sure if Fallon fell asleep with me, but she is holding a steaming mug of coffee that I swipe out of her hands and almost drain.

Coffee. At last. 

I wait for her to snap at me but when I meat her eyes, there’s fresh tears in them. 

“What is it about me?” 

“Well, your hair for one. And your a-”

“Kirby.”

“I mean... you asked.”

If I hadn’t been watching her closely, I’d have missed the half-smirk she gave through her tears. I almost expected her to have a snarky comeback ready, but her expression softened so much that I thought my heart would break for once. 

“No. What is it about me that makes me so unlovable?”

Okay, now my heart is definitely breaking. 

“Fallon... “ 

I’d heard Fallon cry more times than I’d like to keep count of, but I’d never seen her actually start to cry or even tear up. I’d only ever walked in on her already in tears, usually in pitch dark in the middle of the night. 

It’s 3pm and we’re sprawled out on her bed, the projector she’d set up a few days earlier is playing Breakfast At Tiffany’s again but neither of us are really paying it any attention. All she’s had to eat for the past three days are the smoothies I keep asking Mrs Gunnerson to make. And several gin & tonics before my dad made the kitchen staff ignore all her requests for more alcohol. 

I sit up against the headboard and make her sit up to face me, and I brush the knotted mane that is her hair back. It’s beautiful even when it’s a mess.  _ She’s _ beautiful even when she’s a mess. 

“You’re not unlovable, Fallon. Plenty of people around the world love you. He does love you, but loving someone and being in love with someone are different. And I know, I know that they don’t show it in a way that makes sense to you, or to me. Or to anyone that isn’t certifiably insane. But your parents do love you in their own ways. And Steven, and Sammy Jo even though you keep throwing books, or candelabras, or insults at his head. And Beau. Beau definitely loves you. Monica too, and Jeff. And my dad. God, how my dad loves you like his own daughter, Fallon. He’s so proud of everything you do. Well, almost everything. He is Anders after all. I can keep going here, but Fallon… so many people love you. You  _ are _ loved. I promise.”

“Do you?”

I bite my lip, I don’t really know what I expected her to reply to the unplanned monologue I just spewed out, but it certainly wasn’t that. 

“Of course I love you, Fallon. Always have, always will.”

“I love you too.” It’s not loud, barely a whisper really, but I hear her all the same. I think I’m genetically programmed to hear her voice more clearly than anyone else’s. 

As soon as she moves towards me, arms opening slightly, I’m pulling her into the hug she’s too shy to actually ask for. It doesn’t take long for us to end up snuggling again. 

She falls asleep much faster than I do, exhausted from crying and heartbreak. I watch her breath rise and fall as the midafternoon bright sunshine turns into an early evening sunset. 

In the soft glow of the last rays of light for the day, I stifle a few tears of my own, scared to wake her up. I’d always known that she was not as invincible as she made everyone believe. But I hadn’t realized - or had done my best to ignore - how deep her insecurities ran, and how much they mirrored mine. 

Both our mothers left us when we were young. Different reasons, of course, and different circumstances. But I suppose it wouldn’t be a stretch to think that both our psyches could have been impacted similarly from it. 

And suddenly my chest feels too tight, and all the anxiety I thought I’d left behind half a decade ago is back without reason. 

I bury my head into her hair and let my tears fall silently. The last thing Fallon needs right now is to wake up and see me crying and waste her energy trying to comfort me. 

\---

Neither of us really eat for a week. 

\---

Mrs Gunnerson finally sits us down in the kitchen and makes us french toast with berries and says we’re not allowed to leave until we’ve eaten it all, because if we’re going to behave like we’re 8 years old again then she’s going to treat us like we’re 8 years old again. 

I’m almost done with my plate when I realize Fallon’s still struggling halfway through hers. I nudge her, and we trade plates silently. 

I’m pretty sure Mrs Gunnerson noticed the switcheroo, but she doesn’t say anything. 

\---

We do talk about it eventually. Kind of, anyway. About Fallon sending me halfway across the world when we were 16 and 17. 

It happens in half whispered sentences while we’re watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s and eating bacon maple pancakes at 11pm on a Sunday night. 

I break first. 

(Obviously.)

“I’m so sorry, Fallon. For hurting you so much when you were already hurting about your break up with Jeff. I was… It’s not an excuse but I was angry and I was… I was hurting too, and I just. I don’t know. I should never have said what I said. I’m so sorry.”

“Are you kidding me?”

I drop my plate on the coffee table and shrink back, almost as a reflex. 

Fallon looks hurt for a split second before gently grabbing my hand. 

“Why on earth are  _ you _ apologizing?”

I shrug. “I hurt you.”

“And I got Anders to ship you off to Melbourne. Melbourne? Sydney?”   
  
I nod.    
  
“I got Anders to ship you off to Sydney.  _ I’m _ sorry, Kirby. That was… the most over dramatic, ridiculous thing I’ve ever done. And to add insult to injury, I stopped talking to you for 7 years. Over what? Over a truthful statement you made when I was being a moody teenager who couldn’t shut up for 5 seconds to recognize that your heart was breaking too?”

“My… what?” 

“Kirby. Come on. I may not have known it then, but I do know it know. I’m not that stupid you know.”

She squeezes my hand gently, and pulls me in for a hug. 

I’m still confused. 

“I love you, Kirby.”

“I love you too?”

It seems like the right thing to say. And of course I love Fallon, she’s… she’s my friend. Maybe even my best friend, again. 

\---

I’m suddenly hungry again and eating like my normal self again. 

\---

We don’t talk about it again for a few months. 

\---

Fallon takes her time to get back to human eating patterns, but there’s less and less leftover breakfast being pushed on my plate each morning. 

\---

“What was that thing your dad used to say about love?”

I lift my head from her stomach and raise my eyebrows. 

“About the people you need to fall in love with.”   
  
“Once with your best friend. Once with someone exactly like you. Once with someone you think is perfect.” I shrug, dropping my head back down and trying to fall asleep again. I think Fallon is my favorite pillow. 

“Huh.”

“Hmm?”

“Culhane. Jeff. Liam. I’ve had my three. So. What happens next?”

I laugh, and she swats at me because it nudges her hip. “You’re now officially allowed to fall in real love because you’re apparently a grown up.”

Fallon laughs, and mumbles something about it being too late. 

Before I can ask, she’s got a question of her own. 

“What about you?”

“What about me what?”

“Have you had y… have you had all three?” She asks cautiously. 

I sit up. I’m not going to get any sleep now anyway. 

“You know I’ve never been in love, Fallon.”

She ducks her head pretty quickly, but for a second it almost looks like she was tearing up.”

\---

“I would so date her.” 

Office Christmas Party is playing and Kate McKinnon, in some ridiculous sweater, is on the screen. 

I haven’t been paying much attention, too busy tracing random words into Fallon’s back instead. 

“But you’re straight.”

“No. No I’m not.” Fallon laughs, easily, as though she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on me. 

“But.”

“I’ve never been straight, Kirby. Jeff, Culhane, even Liam. I… I wasn’t sure how Blake would take it if I dated a girl.”

“And now you’ve what, stopped caring?”

“Pretty much.” Fallon winks, and my stomach flip flops for some reason. 

“Lesbian Sisters Unite!” I laugh, “And yeah, I’d date Kate too.”

Fallon sighs, and pushes me down so that she can trace on my back instead. 

\---

I’m semi-aware of Fallon carrying me to her room at the end of the movie. I’m not sure why she’s not just dropping me off in my room, it’s closer to the tv room and she has to go past it to get to her room anyway, but I’m also not about to argue. Her bed has some feather filled topper thing that makes it feel like a cloud. Whenever I fall asleep in Fallon’s bed it feels like I’m floating. Especially if I’m drunk. 

(I’m not quite drunk, but I’m definitely tipsy.)

“Tell me again about the three people you fall in love with.”

I laugh softly. Sometimes Fallon’s like a little kid who wants a bedtime story before falling asleep. 

“Your best friend. The person who knows you most of all. The person who you can joke with about anything. Who you can always count on. Who will always be there. They’ll teach you about the line between friendship and romance.”

_ I think of my life, before and after Australia, Fallon was the most constant thing in it. Fallon was the person I’d run to about anything. The only time she wasn’t, was when I crossed a line in our friendship and hurt her, because I was hurting. Because I was cr- _

Fallon nudges me to continue. 

“The person who’s just like you.Your soulmate or whatever you want to call it. Another heart that beats just like yours. Who’ll teach you the parts of you that you like and the parts that you hate.”

_ We’re not alike on the surface. Different looks, different personalities, different ways of dealing with life. But when you dig a little deeper we’re just like each other. We think the same way, we cry and laugh together, and we- _

Fallon nudges me again. She’s impatient tonight. 

“And the person you think is perfect. The person you love easily because you idolize them. The one you want to be around forever. They teach you that perfection is a lie and to never accept being treated as less than you deserve.”

_ I remember a time that I used to think Fallon was perfect. As for treating me as less than I deserve, I think we’ve put the whole Australia thing to rest by now, but that would definitely qualify.  _

_ Oh.  _

_ Fuck.  _

Fallon’s fast asleep before she can nudge me another time, a faint smile on her lips as she pulls me into a hug. 

I’m smiling too. 

My heart is playing jump rope in my chest. 

I hold Fallon tightly and drift off to sleep, trying hard to not think about the three times Fallon broke my heart without knowing it. 

\---

“When I was growing up, my dad told me you need to fall in love with three people before you’re grown up and really ready to love. Your best friend. Someone you believe is perfect. And someone who is exactly like you. He never mentioned that it could be the same person all three times, like it was for me.” 

I take a deep breath, and sneak a glance up at Fallon’s bright smile. 

“Fallon Carrington, I have fallen head over heels for you four times now. What do you say we make it forever?” 

She squeals so loud that I close my eyes as I stand back up, and quickly open them again so that I don’t miss a single thing.

We’re a mess of limbs and curly hair as we hug. 

(I’m so glad I did this in the vineyard where no one else could see or hear the excited, girly jumping & shrieking happening from both of us right now.)

\---

“Fallon Carrington, I have seen the darkest parts of you, and the most loving, caring parts of you. And everything in between. I vow to always wipe away your tears before mine, to sometimes let you choose the Sunday night movies we watch but to never force you to watch a horror movie, and to eat all your unfinished breakfasts. And most of all, I vow to always keep falling head over heels for you. Or head over flats, I’m already very tall.”

Fallon giggles as I wink at her, and I can see her nerves fading away as she starts her own vows. 

“Kirby Anders, you taught me that love doesn’t have a single universal definition, because no two people can ever love you in the same way. You taught me that love isn’t bold or brash or loud, it’s the person who’s always quietly there when you need it. When you don’t even know that you need it. I vow to always be there for you, whether you know you need it or not. And I’m going off script here, but uh, I also vow to never kick you out of the manor again.”

We’re laughing as we kiss, and my heart flip flops again. 

\---

“Do you remember when we were, like, three years old and got married in the backyard?”

Fallon nods, smiling, as we climb up the stairs into the jet. “I think that’s when I knew I loved you, actually.”

“Fallon we were three years old!”

“You were three. I was the ripe old age of four.”

I cackle as she sinks into the couch and starts rooting through her bag. 

“Here.” I hand her the small tube of anxiety meds, and plop down next to her. It’s a long flight ahead, but the small ocean hut that’s waiting for us at the end of it will be worth it. 

“Okay, maybe I didn’t  _ know _ , but I definitely loved you then. And all I wanted was for you to love me back”

“Me too. I think that’s all any of us really want in life at the end of the day, Fallon. To love & to be loved.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> please please let me know what you think!


End file.
